


sweven

by stag_von_simp



Series: everything will glow for you [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, M/M, Veeeery pointless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stag_von_simp/pseuds/stag_von_simp
Summary: prompt: sweven ~ a dreamOR: being so in love with an angel affects ferdinand even in slumber.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: everything will glow for you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551619
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	sweven

it’s good, ferdinand must admit. he’d even dangle himself off that trembling limb–swing on this moment, pump his legs, hope he doesn’t ruin the serenity draped in the air like morning fog–and say it’s amazing, because that’s how it feels. it’s just him and linhardt, together in bed, ferdinand’s jacket slouched on linhardt’s thin shoulders. linhardt’s sitting up, propped against the huddle of pillows smothering each other behind him, reading to him. and ferdinand is spilled across his lap like a stain of autumn in the dim room.

he’s so close to dozing off to the sound of linhardt’s purr. he’s so close to plummeting into that aimless black field that eventually, he does.

and linhardt’s half-murmur ghosts into his slumber, knitting white through the colorless cavern of his strained mind. it’s a relief from the hollowness–and the dream is a like a contented sigh, whistling on with no intention to ever stop.

in the dream, linhardt looks strange; he’s linhardt, of course, easy to distinguish from just the drowsiness stenciled around his eyes…but his edges spring apart and fade into clouds that frizz into inevitably nothing. his angles are sculpted into gentle curves, and he seems to be floating above the earth when he wordlessly approaches the ferdinand the dream has conjured. linhardt flourishes his hand, fingers flexing, ready to heave the weight of ferdinand’s own and more than willing. ferdinand’s fingers burrow between linhardt’s faster he can even consider not seeming too overzealous.

he realizes now that linhardt is flapping in a white robe, the cuffs gaping around his knobbly wrists. ferdinand’s hand swoops back to his lips–linhardt’s own fingers are still immersed in ferdinand’s–and he strokes a kiss against linhardt’s knuckles, which prickle familiarly beneath his skin like icicles.

ferdinand is swept into a strange world, and linhardt, for once, tugs the reins in the strange dance: everything is laced is white, softness pooling into everything he sees in milky puddles, and ferdinand doesn’t overthink–he doesn’t question–he just lets himself lunge deeper into the dream world, with its soft, cresting turrets and steam of strange whispers that don’t belong to either of them.

it’s the most peaceful dream he’s ever had, and he doesn’t realize he was dreaming of _dying_ with linhardt until he finally pries himself out of that kingdom, clawing back to the empire he knows on linhardt’s carefully sprawled legs. he’s wheezing when he wakes up, lungs feeling strangely shriveled as they squirm in their cavity. and he’s realizing, now and only now (since he’d been too proud, before he’d admitted defeat to the quicksand of his lover’s breathy tones), that he has to be with linhardt forever. 

because if he isn’t, he’ll never return to that abyss of shapeless beauty and wordless wind ever again. and he doesn’t know if he can bear never going back. what he does know is this: it wouldn’t be the same without linhardt’s fingers cushioned between his like gliding, blinding wings. 


End file.
